Summertime Sadness
by nothing-chan
Summary: But he would never be a speck of ash in my life, he would always be the boy who held my hand when I scrapped my knees, or helped me amass my collection of magical rocks, or gave me my first kiss, at the age of six, behind an old, shambled barn, fingers gooey with evening dew. He would be the boy who left me alone, who touched my heart then ran away in fear.


_Summertime Sadness - Lana Del Rey_

* * *

The air tasted like dust and peaches when Alfred F. Jones parked his defective car in my driveway.

I was peeling fruit and tossing the skins at a skittish squirrel, which fled upon the loud gunshot of his engine halting. I watched him amble out of the car, reflecting white sun as he leant against the hood, arms crossed, teeth barred.

"Hey!" He called, now succeeding in frightening off a group of mindless birds resting upon the failing telephone wire strung high above, the flock piercing into the absurdly blue sky.

The ground shivered under his thunderous roar, wind picking up loose pieces of grass and dispersing them throughout the surroundings. Dust still clouded around his tires, collecting all over the hem of his torn jeans, drying the wetness of his lips, filling the soft cracks.

He was ruining my summer.

"What the hell are you doing here?" My yell rocked the porch swing I sat in, creaking under the rusted chains and bowing wood.

"What does it look like?" The bush rustled beneath the porch, the hidden squirrel's interest now peaked and pacing in the shrub, "Don't look so excited to see me."

"Why would I be?" I set the leaking fruit down next to me, rocking the juices it wept back and forth with the shiver of the swing. Harsh, he flinched against the scalding metal, but he didn't move, mouth twisting.

"Well," his laugh was a hand running through his hair, bangs pushed back to reveal a high forehead, free of worrisome wrinkles, "Took me at least an hour to drive out here from the city. It's like a whole other world." Alfred kicked the ground, a cough of dirt covering his speculative face. "I don't think there's anything out here at all, other than a few cows, and some country hicks. You should really see the city Arthur, it's amazing, the lights, the cars, I've never seen anything like it."

"You don't get it."

There was untroubled silence for a bit, half of the birds returning to their electric home, bouncing and chattering above the statue relaxed beneath them. Alfred ran a finger over his lips, licking the grime and sweat off of his parched skin, before speaking again, this time not as a surprise to the other creatures around.

"So? Aren't you going to welcome me?" I sunk my green eyes back into my head, covering my already sunburnt face with my hands, trying to burrow away into the blackness of palms. He was not going to leave, he was going to stay here and yell and kick rocks and toss pebbles until I acknowledged him, giving him the propitiation he needed. A stray stream of sticky liquid wormed its way to my leg, staining the fabric of my pants, dripping off slowly as I stood.

* * *

Alfred's car was far from comfortable, especially bouncing down an unpaved road at twenty miles per hour over the speed limit. A rather large obstruction shot me up into the air, loose seatbelt barely keeping my skull from caving in against the metal roof, Alfred cheering and smiling the whole time.

"Man, I could get used to driving this fast! You can never speed like this in the city!" A bend was up ahead, along with a sign warning of deer crossing, but Alfred accelerated at a newfound rate, leaning as the vehicle shot around the curve. My stomach convulsed and splatter against my insides, fingers digging into the foam divulging from the torn seat cover. The world outside surged by in a hideous blur, mixing the scenic landscape to a goulash of browns and greens, patches of flowers splattered like paint at random intervals.

"Alfred, stop…" I said upon the passing of a familiar stretch, and he glanced over with the same uneven grin he wore so well.

"Why? Scared of a little fast driving?"

"No, seriously, stop the car, you missed the turn." His face quickly turned serious as he slammed the brakes, compressing my chest and jumping forward a bit himself. "Jesus, ever heard of slow braking? How did you even pass your driver's test?" Alfred ignored the jab, now intent on staring out of his back window and baking up shakily, tongue bit in concentration.

When the car neared the dust covered wooden bridge, I signaled for him to stop again, waiting patiently as the car dilapidated and shuttered to a standstill. He was curious as we got out, observing the completely barren hay field across from us, golden bales the only inhabitants for miles to see. The way his shirt ballooned in the breeze and shifted under the late afternoon sun made him look like he belonged, like he could have wandered into the unoccupied land and not disturbed a thing, sunk into the ground and become a piece of crushed summertime flora.

I took to crossing the little footbridge, over a single stream of water, into the field of emptiness, the uncut grass winding around my ankles. I made haste for the closest bale of hay, stumbling as the earth clung to me, pulling me to the ground, swallowing my bare feet whole.

"H-Hey, Arthur, wait up!" He was not faring too better, the tipping and twirls of imbalance almost enough to make me laugh in bitterness, except the fact that I was more concerned with my current task, destroying the giant before me.

"Weird, I can't believe I forgot the turn. We used to come here all the time as kids, huh?" His laugh was deadly cold and tittering, unnerving in the daylight.

"Alfred, shut up," I seethed, and he complied, hands in his pockets, watching me stealthily pull out clumps of the dry straw. When my hands were overflowing with hay, I turned quickly and shoved the collection into his face, backing away when he began to snort and gasp, wiping at his face methodically.

"What the hell?" Alfred screeched, clawing at the stray pieces cemented into his neck, face red and eyes wide.

"That's for coming back, jerk!" I felt something swelling inside me, like a dam, or a shaken soda can, so I bent down and grabbed a fistful of plain grass, attempting to toss it at him, watching the blades scatter after two inches of dangling in the air.

"Arthur, what is wrong with you?" His voice was cracking as I continued to assault him with torn up grass, mowing down the area around me and barreling toward him, pounding dirt into his chest.

I don't think he even noticed it at the time, but I wasn't laughing, or crying, or doing anything other than watching the clumps of dirt and weed soak into his once clean shirt. It wasn't a joke, it wasn't emotional, it had no point, no trigger, just a pale hand smearing soil down a confused boy's body.

"Arthur, stop," he grabbed onto my hand, pushing me back, trying to watch me, trying to get me to look at him, but I couldn't, I wouldn't, I can't, I can't let him see me. "What is going on?"

"Nothing, let go, let go…" But he could even tell I was lying, the weak tug, the reluctant tone, melting beneath the late afternoon sun. "You don't get it."

"You won't tell me," he was still holding onto my wrist and I could feel the sweat collecting between the contact, oozing out of the tight grip. It tore a hole in the ground, devoured me, at least in my dreams, sinking me far away from this electric blue sky and Alfred's electric blue eyes and the warm, paralyzing hold keeping me firmly floating in the air, not blinking, not breathing, just watching the stray pieces of dirt trail off of his shirt.

"Why did you leave me all alone?"

It barely reached above the shiver of wind, and Alfred blinked in surprise, familiar glasses skewed on his nose. I wanted to stop, but it was a trail of vomit trickling out of my mouth, befouling the clean air all around, drowning both of us in a constricting fishbowl.

"You went to the city and you made new friends and saw new things and you never came back for me. Why? What did I do? I hate you."

The final victims of my grass rampage departed in the wind, trailing across the field, into the woods, traveling across the world, disintegrating in the sun, feeling the pain of one thousand heart attacks all at once.

"Arthur-"

"It's like you didn't care I would be all alone. I haven't talked to anyone except my grandparents in two years Alfred, two years, I'm all alone, and you don't care."

"I care, I care," his words did not penetrate the deep babble pouring out of me however, and I continued to prattle on, voice a crescendo in the nothing all around.

"I guess I should be sorry, for being gay, for scaring you, for whatever I did, but I'm not sorry, I'm just angry. I want you to go back to the city and leave me the hell alone."

The flinch that Alfred had gave me the opportunity to pull my hand away, stumbling back, twisting the freed skin, crying like an ashamed child. He was so dazed I got a head start, feet pounding as I tripped my way back to the car, rocks abrading my feet, fingers clawing at the metal handle.

"Wait, Arthur!" Alfred was strong, but he was not fast, and I slammed the door behind me and succeeded in starting the engine before he even approached the road, peeling away in a frenzy of dust and screaming tires.

I knew it would take Alfred a while to get back to the house, so when I returned home I sat in the truck and cried. I pulled at the roots of my hair, wanting to shed everything off of my body, wanting to douse the car in gasoline and set it ablaze, scorching every single thing that reeked of Alfred, leave him a mere speck of ash in my life.

But he would never be a speck of ash in my life, he would always be the boy who held my hand when I scrapped my knees, or helped me amass my collection of magical rocks, or gave me my first kiss, at the age of six, behind an old, shambled barn, fingers gooey with evening dew. He would be the boy who left me alone, who touched my heart then ran away in fear, taking shelter in neon lights and pollutant smog that clouded his glasses and dulled him to the real truth, the scary truth, the truth that I know had to face on my own, alone, sitting in his truck, fingers lacerating the steering wheel.

A speck of ash, yes that is all he is, that is what I believed, even when he arrived at my house late in the evening, calling my name, pelting my second story window with dangerous stones. I pulled the covers far up over my head, destroying my lip, ripping skin off with every call of my name, every plea, every rushed explanation. Sometime, around the early hours of the morning, it almost sounded like a soft 'I love you' ghosted in through the cracks in the wall, entrammeling the screen on my window and settling on top of my overheated body like a blanket of emotion.

But that all disappeared with a small, bright flame when I heard his car start up and drive away, toward the paved streets of the big city, a farewell of desolate proportions, leaving nothing but sweet summer air and trails of bruised flowers in its wake.

* * *

_Hello._

_I felt a bit like writing something summery, since it is that time of year where we are all just tired of winter and the snow and could all go for some nice weather. However, despite being a beautiful time of year, I've always found summer the saddest of seasons. It's a bit melancholic and overwhelming to me._

_I've also always loved the idea of Alfred and Arthur growing up together in the country, not sure why. I have a difficult relationship with cities and the country, I just don't know which one I like better._

_Anyway, please review, favorite, and have a beautiful day._


End file.
